


I Want to Know You

by Mor-Mor (Not_The_Gods_Favorite)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_The_Gods_Favorite/pseuds/Mor-Mor
Summary: Four questions that they ask each other over the years they spend together.~~~~~~Jaskier herded him to a table when their drinks were on their hands, talking more nonsense and pulling out of the Witcher the information of the monster he was after. The human seemed to take a weird interest in what Geralt did for a living considering his species who preferred to have the whole continent between them and one of Geralt's kind.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 239





	I Want to Know You

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly out of character, this is my first work for this fandom so it might be a bit wonky and inaccurate.
> 
> This is also posted on "The Witcher" Amino for a challenge a while ago.

**1\. Who's there?**

It was a very cold night and it was barely mid-autumn. Jaskier wondered what he would do to get warm in winter when snow froze the earth and chilled the air. He wouldn't be able to make it back to Oxenfurt in time.

He had made a mistake, dwelling for too long on the warm sun of big cities, getting coin and spending it almost as fast as he won it, leaving him by the end of the summer with enough coin to try to make a very austere trip to wherever he could get until it was too cold to travel on foot. Then... he would have a plan by then.

"Sweet Melitele, I hope I do have a plan" he sighs, picking up some sticks.

For now, he made a small fire, and ate what he had left of bread and cheese, gripping the hilt of the dagger on his boot as he stared into the flames. He's exhausted, but he can't bring himself to sleep just yet. So he played idly with his lute, trying to pluck a melody out of it.

༺♤×♡×◇×♧༻

Geralt wanted to crumple to the floor and sleep for a week. He was just coming back from a very tasking hunt, and his whole body was aching. The village he had taken the contract from had been too small to hold an inn, and the pay had not been too great either. But he just took it and strode out, hoping to find somewhere to stay for the night.

He was glad he had Roach to ride on, or the task of walking through the forest foliage would have been too hard.

The silence of the forest was suddenly broken by some plucking sound, and then music. Then he could smell a human, which meant he was far more tired than he would have liked. He turns to where he thinks the music is coming and finds the faint glow of a small fire.

The Witcher curses under his breath and wonders what kind of idiot would lit a fire in the middle of the forest, that's like screaming 'come at me' at the top of one's lungs. But Roach is calm so he takes that whoever is responsible for the fire is not a threat.

Begrudgingly he steers Roach over, tying her to a tree and shuffling closer to fully assess the situation. Throughout some shrubbery he spots an extravagantly dressed man, lute cradled on his hands as he plucks a note here and there. He looks completely unarmed and Geralt almost pities him if he even comes across some bandits because he is such an easy target.

He's about to retreat when the guy, whom he assumes is a bard, stands up, a tingle of fear pouring off him.

"Who's there?" He calls out, chest puffing out slightly as he leaves his lute on the floor.

Geralt must have made a sound, and it would have been easy to move away, just leaving the bard in the comfort of his small fire and find another spot as good as the one this little human got, no tree roots and dry-packed dirty with a small layer of grass and weeds and a nice tree trunk to sit on, but something on this human made him step forward. The bard reached for his boot and pulled out a dagger as the Witcher emerged from the shadows.

That was a surprise, he didn't expect that this human was armed, but well, maybe he knew that he had to protect himself after all. Geralt holds his hands in front of him, knowing that above his head is too close to his swords for a human. He hardly has the will to force himself out of the clearing and out somewhere else.

He knows he doesn't have many social skills, but he tries to keep the gruff out of his voice as he asks the bard if he could sit by the fire, offering to make it bigger now that they have the protection of swords. What's more surprising than the dagger is that the bard allows this with little resistance, putting his own blade back on the boot and gesturing to the improvised campsite in clear invitation.

Geralt stops himself from commenting on it, there's no point on it. He walks away with the first lights of the morning, thinking that he'll never meet the human again.

  
**2\. Do you mean me harm?**

Apparently, Destiny liked to laugh at his face, because he has met the bard, Jaskier, quite a few times over the next months. The first time, Geralt walked into an inn and there was someone performing, it had been roughly two months since that night on the forest, but he still recognized the bard, who was singing a raunchy tune and dancing around the tables.

On the present day the Witcher had walked into an inn asked for a room to stay in, and was met with an incredulous look from the barkeep. Geralt sighed and explained that he was there to kill the monster that haunted the town. He was faintly aware of the music stopping, and he could almost hear the insult on the barkeep's lips before the bard came up to him and started to chatter nonsense as he ordered ale for himself and his friend.

Geralt was about to grumble but the bard asked if there were any rooms left for the Witcher to stay in and as if Jaskier was magic the barkeep dropped a key on the counter and took Geralt's coin jerking his head upstairs and muttering a number as he poured the ale.

Jaskier herded him to a table when their drinks were on their hands, talking more nonsense and pulling out of the Witcher the information of the monster he was after. The human seemed to take a weird interest in what Geralt did for a living considering his species who preferred to have the whole continent between them and one of Geralt's kind.

The bard even ordered food for them and once their plates were scraped, begrudgingly on Geralt's side, he retreated back to his quarters, leaving the Witcher downstairs. He didn't stay much longer, not being able to endure the angry stares when he only wanted to sleep.

The next morning he went out to take care of the monster and he hoped to be done with it quickly. But, again, Destiny wasn't that merciful. He had drank too many potions and by the time he strolled back into town everyone was literally running out of his way.

He managed to get his payment and headed back to the inn, to clean himself and get out of this blasted town. Somehow, even with all the potions in his system, everything seemed dulled. When he walked into the inn he barely heard the barkeep yelling at him to get the fuck out, and he was about to do that, when a hand closed on his forearm and he had been so ready to grab by the neck whoever dared to lay hands on him when he saw Jaskier standing there.

While every sound was permeated as if he was underwater, smells were still pungent. Everyone reeked of fear, except the little bard who could probably barely lift his own weight. He was scared, but... apparently not enough to be dripping with the sour scent of it.

He seems to be talking to the barkeep, because his head is turned in that direction, and then, without hesitation he's cupping Geralt's face, soft yet calloused hands make the Witcher's black eyes stare directly at him, and he stares right back, barely tensing.

"Do you mean me any harm?" He mumbles, and somehow that bleeds through all the unintelligible sound on Geralt's ears. He shakes his head, grunting a little. Witchers do not hurt humans.

"See? I'll be perfectly okay... please bring a bath to my quarters, I'll look out for him until the eyes go away" he reaches out to grab Geralt's hand, tugging him to the steps, not caring how the hand is muddy and bloody.

The Witcher cannot understand what's happening, not really, but since the bard got him to keep his stay at the inn, he won't be asking much questions... for now.

༺♤×♡×◇×♧༻

Jaskier was elated to find the Witcher in this not so tiny village, looking as deadly and silent as he had looked all the times their paths had crossed. He would declare that all of this had Destiny's imprint if last time he tried to imply something close to that, Geralt had implied his fist would leave an imprint on his face.

The bard liked his face, so he would have to remain silent. Geralt of Rivia was many things, but he didn't know how to bargain with rude inn owners, so he saved his ass and got him a room and food and ale, what else could the Witcher ask for?

The evening had gone great and after some chatter he went to sleep knowing that the White Wolf, as he had been secretly calling Geralt, was on town and the probability of finally getting a story out of the stony-faced man made him giddy.

He did not expect to have to almost save the Witcher from angry townspeople, but that happened. Jaskier stayed around fussing with some papers as the bath was brought upstairs and when Geralt finally slid in, the bard started to undo his doublet and roll up his sleeves, going to the edge of the tub and dipping a rag on the water.

"you clearly need to rest, you're wounded and tired and awfully sluggish, and that's a human talking, I imagine that's worse for Witcher standards, uh?" He huffs and reaches for his arms first, so Geralt knows that he won't hurt him.

Geralt grumbles but stays still, as if considering the bard's words long enough that he had time to clean his arms, shoulders and the worse of his face.

Then the Witcher slaps his hand away and finishes the job. Jaskier still gives him a self-satisfied smile before he saunters back to his parchment and quills.

"I hope that the eyes are gone by supper, I ordered some of the nicest food they had for whenever you came back from the hunt... although I could ask the girl to bring it over, that way you don't have to deal with pesky humans" he wrinkles his nose a little, waving his hand.

"I am dealing with a pesky human" Geralt grumbles, making the bard laugh.

  
**3\. What are you doing?**

Its been over a couple of years since he met the Witcher and he doesn't remember a time when he saw him so injured. The White Wolf was limping across the clearing they had chosen to camp on, blood dripping from a wound on his side and dragging a foot that appeared to be sprained, that's what he can see, but he's sure there's worse under the armor.

Jaskier hurried over him offering a shoulder and scooting under the Witcher's arm, even if he almost grunted in warning. Apparently, it was the right thing to do because just a couple steps after Geralt collapsed to the floor, dragging Jaskier with him.

If anyone asked, Jaskier would say he didn't yelp as they plummeted to the ground, but despite the shock, he was back on his feet quite easily, rolling the Witcher on his back and starting to yank at the armor, trying to get it out of the way so he could look at the wound that was now bleeding into the dirt.

All he could smell was blood, and if he, a mere human, managed that, he had to get the Witcher patched up as fast as he could to avoid them more trouble.

The bard had managed to get the waterskin and some clean cloth, dabbing it carefully on the wound. He wouldn't dare to rummage through Geralt's potions, not knowing what his friend needed right now. The wound didn't look too messy, so probably it wouldn't infect, but it was deep, so he had to find a way to stop the bleeding, and after he cleaned the area around it, he pressed a cloth over it.

Geralt growled at the pressure, eyes snapping open, baring his teeth to the bard.

"What are you doing?" He gruffed, blindly reaching around for his pack until Jaskier pushed it to his side "save the water for ourselves" he added on a grunt as he pulled out a couple potions, eyeing them and uncorking just one, grimacing at the taste.

"Wow, one would have thought that after decades you would get used to its foul taste, uh?" Jaskier pips in, not liking the silence only filled with Geralt's labored breathing, but he's glad that the bleeding is being stopped by the potion.

"Would you like your least favorite food after decades?" The Witcher answered back, fading black eyes almost rolling on the bard's direction

"Ah, I see, makes total sense... now, stay right here, the stew is almost finished" he stands up and goes over the fire.

Geralt stares at him for a couple seconds and Jaskier turns around with a smile "I was getting hungry, and I guessed you would appreciate something warm after the fight... don't worry, this could be porridge as thick as it is"

Jaskier hears a barely approvingly rumble and counts it as a win, pouring a generous serve to the Witcher and winking at him "let me know if you need anything else"

  
**4\. Are you a creature or a man?**

Geralt is not sure exactly how long it has been, but he's sure it has been a couple of decades already... decades, and Jaskier looked just a couple years older than when he met him for the first time in the forest.

He didn't realize before, Jaskier was so different but such a constant, that soon he became as familiar as the walls of Kaer Morhen. It was weird when winter gave place to spring and the bard wasn't surprisingly close to the witcher keep, as if waiting for Geralt's arrival.

It was something hard to understand at first, Jaskier had so many things to do; teach at Oxenfurt, travel without the dangers of The Path, settle on a court, yet he decided, again and again, to follow Geralt across the continent. Even with all the discomfort and danger that this implied, even if he complained constantly.

The Witcher didn't know how to confront Jaskier about this, he didn't know how to ask how the bard's face was barely reaching his mid-twenties, when he should be right on his forties.

It seemed like a question like that would be the final straw, what finally would make Jaskier turn his back on Geralt and never return to his side.i

This spring, they were rooming together on the inn of a backwater town, Jaskier was performing as usual, but this time Geralt stared. Not to assess any possible threats to the bard, but he stared at the bard himself, noticing how he seemed to glow as he glided through the tables, gifting smiles to everyone willing to receive one, flirting with whoever flirted back.

For the first time in ages Geralt wanted to get drunk, and maybe then he would have the courage to ask Jaskier.

He had managed to get tipsy before the bard dragged him up the stairs complaining that he had to stop wasting all his coin in ale, lest he can't afford the herbs he had to replenish for his potions.

They were sharing a room, so Jaskier just pushed him inside and locked the door once they were in, turning to face him, hands on his hips and a playful smirk on his lips.

"Spill it, what's going on? You never try to get drunk unless something is bothering you a lot, I know you enough to see the signs"

"That's the problem" he forces out "you know me too well, because of decades of following me around" he looks up at the bard, who looks mildly startled.

"Wh-what, pray tell, do you mean by that?" Jaskier takes a hesitant step towards the bed that he claimed as his own, facing Geralt with a nervous smile.

"Are you a creature or a man?" The Witcher asks, hoping that there's nothing but curiosity on his tone, he can't lose the bard, not after he has made a home under the Wolf's skin.

The nervousness on Jaskier bleeds out as his nervous smile turns into a grin that in turn turns into a soft laugh. His eyes are glinting with some tears when be finally looks up at the Witcher.

"I- I thought you would never realize and I would be able to get away with it" he mumbles looking to his hands again "perhaps I have elven blood, or something I just know i haven't aged in a while and- and it made me feel so happy, it means I get to be around you for longer, to write more songs, to see more of the world"

Geralt just stares at him, a smile tugging at his lips when the bard's words register "so you- you want to follow me around for more decades?"

"Geralt, it would be my pleasure to follow you around as long as my legs allow me to" he makes a small bow, grinning at the man in front of him.

The Witcher nods "maybe I could follow you around too, see what you get up to" he holds out a hand to Jaskier, hoping that his offer is enough.

He takes it, rubbing Geralts knuckles with a smile, nodding profusely "that would be perfect"

**END**


End file.
